Pleading the Fifth [Daily Prompt]

Today’s Daily Post made me chuckle because it’s such an inane thing. However a question I hate to be asked is the casual ‘how are you?’ that is prompted after you see someone in the morning and have already said hello. I got this a lot when I worked for a bigger company. I’d pass someone in the hall and here’s how it’d go down:

Them “Morning”
Me “Good Morning”
Them” How are you?”
Me “I’m good, how are you?”
No response because they are halfway down the hall.

When passing someone there is really only time for a call and a response (and maybe another call) so instead of asking how you’re doing perhaps say have a good day. Same amount of time without the added benefit of leaving the person you’re talking to hanging. 10_SketchIn fact, this type of thing has become a pet peeve, it even made it into my sketchbook as a pet peeve.

That’s it. So as silly as it is, the question that I hate to be asked is ‘how am I’ because in the  past I’ve been asked it SO many times by people who don’t really care (and in turn wouldn’t listen or respond when I asked).

About these ads

6 thoughts on “Pleading the Fifth [Daily Prompt]

  1. What question do you hate to be asked? Why?

    I hate to be asked how tall I am. Just being asked brings feelings of embarrassment. I have been taller than most everyone my age since 3rd of 4th grade. The endless teasing began around 5th grade. Questions like: “How tall are you?” “Why are you so tall” “How’s the weather up there?” and the most dreaded, “Hey Wilt!”
    Throughout middle school and high school, I was harassed daily with these insulting phrases, and more; “Hey beanstalk! How high you gonna grow?” Of course, all of these phrases were preludes to giggling and smirks. I was shunned; different and not to be allowed in certain societies. To make the situation worse, I had to change school in the 9th grade. There was no way to make friends. I was the new girl and the tall girl, making me the scapegoat in all classes.
    It hurt and the hurt went deep.
    College was better. Most students had grown up and at long last I was able to make friends and go for days without having to hear the embarrassing questions. When the questions did come, they were, for the most part, without the accompanying giggles and smirks. Obviously not all had grown up yet and I would later learn that some never do.
    Most of the comments were nice, “You should be a model”, giving me back some of my self-confidence. I finally got to the point where I was proud of my height and carried it regally. Most of the time I didn’t think of it anymore, but eventually the question would come, and I would cringe.
    Even now, that I’m in my 50’s, I still cringe when someone asks me, “How tall are you?” To answer the question I am 6’4” which is tall for a woman. But, for whatever reason, this is the body I got and have to learn to live in.

    • I have a friend that’s 6 foot something. For the longest time she would say she’s 5’12″ when people asked. It’s been hard for her too (especially now that she works with third graders who think she is a bit of a giant). I can’t say that I know what you’re going through, but can somewhat empathize having seen her struggle through it. Thanks to her I keep myself in check when I’m around tall people and refrain from asking how tall they are (even though I’m usually very curious, especially when they are almost as tall as a volleyball net). What is it about height that fascinates people so much?

      • I, too, worked in the school system for several years and yes, the remarks, questions, giggles, and smirks were still there. In adults most people say something like, “I wish I had your height” or “It must be great to be so tall, you can reach anything”, and now and then I get the “You make me feel so short”. Thanks for the empathy and tell your friend I said ‘Hello!”

  2. That used to be my pet peeve too. These days I usually respond to a how are you with a ‘how are you’ rather than ‘fine thanks’. That forcfes people think about how they are. :)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s